Sympathy for the Devil
by MiszE506
Summary: "So if you meet me, have some courtesy, have some sympathy..."


"Mason. MASON! The numbers, Mason! What do they mean?"

The interrogator was getting nowhere with the delusional captain. Bloodied and tired to death by the bombardment of questions to which he had no real answers to, Alex Mason sat on the interrogation chair barely holding on. He was surrounded by televisions, either monitoring him or flashing random numbers. They only made it harder to concentrate, and the variety of what seemed to be dentist tools that lay silently beside him didn't help his thinking at all.

I've heard of this Captain Alex Mason and his team leader, Sergeant **[REDACTED] **along with Chief Petty Officer **[REDACTED]**. Infamous for killing **[REDACTED]**; i.e. total badass. Word of them spread through **[REDACTED] **like wildfire so fast that all my female coworkers grew _crushes _on him. And they didn't even know him! I, on the other hand, only _admired_ him and his work and took my job seriously. Now, being any regular coffeegirl would be boring, but as **[REDACTED]**'s coffeegirl I was able to see the fucked up shit that they did to him. I can't say exactly what they did but by "fucked up shit", I meant _fucked up shit_.

Today was the same as yesterday. I walked into the interrogator's room, overlooking the cluttered room where Mason sat. **[REDACTED]** was arguing back and forth with him like a married couple. He noticed me and swiped the coffee from out of my hands, setting it down on the table beside him.

"Goddamn it all," he said to me, banging a fist against the window. I stood quietly with my hands behind my back, waiting for him to continue. Shaking his head, **[REDACTED] **went on. "People are going to die because one guy can't remember what a few fucking numbers were for."

As he drank his coffee, I peered out the one-way window. Mason's head hung low - his white shirt was stained red and his hands were twitching. Deep down, I couldn't help but think that they were trying too hard to get whatever answers they wanted. I wanted to tell** [REDACTED]** what I thought but I was scared of being scolded for insubordination. After all, I was only a coffeegirl. I gave it a shot anyway.

"Sir, may I suggest 'nurture' rather than 'torture'?" I asked, not taking my eyes away from the window. I turned around to have **REDACTED]** stare at me over his mug. I swear, for a good minute he just stared at me. And after that minute, he left the room saying, "You have an hour."

I was so sure that he wouldn't take me seriously but what did he mean that I had an hour? Was he expecting me to provide the 'nurture'? That bastard! I'm not trained at all to deal with interrogations, let alone the interogee! Think, what does nurture mean to you? Hugs and kisses from Mom come to mind but what do you do when you want to show care to a half-crazy hallucinating soldier?

That's all that went through my mind as I neared the door._ How did I even end up in this hallway?_ A soldier had followed me to open and keep guard the door. He didn't even escort me into the room. My right hand carried a bucket full of water with a sponge already in it. I wondered when I got these as I noticed myself already inside the room.

I stood a few feet away from Mason, taking in the sight of the room. Televisions, dentistry tools, a dentist chair, a bloodied guy, and bloodied floor – charming. I took a deep breath and stepped forward. "Hello, Alex," I said in the calmest voice I had. He didn't stir at all as I approached him with the sponge. I wasn't sure if he was dead or sleeping. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if it was the former but I could see him breathing. He was tired, and this was probably something he needed: an hour without questions.

I didn't bother to lift his chin up or anything; most of the blood was on the side of his head. That's where I started to clean it off. Here and there I'd hear a groan or two but after 10 minutes that was all I heard. I didn't know what else to do because **[REDACTED]** never came back and I guess he was serious about that one hour. I tried to coax Alex into talking but he'd mutter numbers and names. Reznov, Steiner, Dragovich… I'd heard these names before from the previous interrogations and reports.

It had only been twenty minutes since I walked into the room. I decided to talk about myself to see if he'd relate or reply to. I started off by introducing myself, and rambled on about high school, family, and friends. But no, not even ten minutes of spilling my life got him to talk.

"Leave me alone," he finally said under his breath. I ignored it.

I stood up and walked around the room to stretch my legs. _Damn, only a half hour's gone by_. I'd actually thought of giving him a hug, maybe even a kiss, but that'd be hard to do while he was strapped to a chair.

_Maybe if I take off the straps..._ It's risky, but there's a soldier nearby to help me if things don't go the way I want and** [REDACTED]**isn't around to scold me. What if he tries to stab me with the scalpel? I can move the table away – no, I need to show him that I trust him. I walked back to Mason. He was aware of my presence now and watched me attentively. My heart began to beat faster, out of fear or rebellion. I ever so slowly and carefully started to take off the brown belts.

"Alex, I'm going to unstrap you," I told him. "But you have to be a good boy, okay?"

I felt him stare at me as I reached for the belts. _Damnit, what was with all the staring today?_ His left hand was now free and in the corner of my eye I could see him opening and closing it, like he was getting ready to punch me. Nothing happened as I took off the right one. Mason stood up in a hurry but quickly fell on top of me. The guard banged on the door as I pushed him off.

"You okay in there?"  
"Fantastic!"

Lucky for me, the captain didn't have much strength to get up. He didn't even bother, just sat slump against the chair with me in front of him. He was breathing heavily now, and sweating. Wait, is he crying? What I thought to be heavy breathing turned out to be sobbing and the sweating was tears. His mutterings began and I leaned in closer to hear them.

"Bowman, Woods, Reznov, Hudson… I don't know what's going on anymore, what's real and what's not, who's good and who's bad, what am I even doing here – urrgghhh! The pain, it's fucking unbearable…!"

Alex held his head in his hands, screaming in agony. It was a scary sight to see a big guy who had such an extraordinary past break down like that. I slowly crawled my way over to him and took him into my arms. He was shaking, trying to get out of my grasp but I wouldn't let go.

"Come on, Alex, just calm down." He did exactly that to my surprise. I kissed him on the head, despite the smell of blood and sweat. We sat there like that for a few minutes and when I was sure that he was calm enough, I let go of him and sat in front of him.

"Thank you, **[REDACTED]**," was all I heard from him. I smiled and felt that I did the best thing anyone could have done for him the whole time he's been here. I looked at the clock; the hour was almost over. [** REDACTED] **_should be back in that stupid room anytime n_ - something hit me on the left side of my face and I hit the ground. He stood over me, a wry smile on his face._ That bastard…_ The soldier ran in, calling for back up. I heard the baton whip out and the pitter-patters of other soldiers' boots enter the room. I sat up rubbing my face, watching Mason get beaten to the ground. **[REDACTED] **ran into the room and helped me up. I couldn't hear him yelling at me over all the commotion. All I could hear was a little voice laughing at me in the back of my head.

_To think I showed sympathy for the devil himself..._


End file.
